


Rising

by purple_cube



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Female Loki, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it was SHIELD and the Avengers who formed the Atlantis expedition? Written for LJ's comment_fic comm, for the theme 'fusion AU'. NB: Loki is genderswapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising

 

McMurdo is busier than he had expected, and Steve has to weave between two scientists who look like they’re about to collapse under the weight of the boxes in their arms. The cold air springs from the wall, and he recoils from it gladly when the hallway widens once more.

 

“Major Rogers?”

 

He swings around mid-stride and finds himself face to face with a man wearing the same uniform as the scientists in the hallway.

 

 “I’m Dr. Coulson,” he says with a welcome smile. “General Fury asked me to let you know that he’s running late. He’ll be ready to leave in five minutes or so.”

 

Steve nods. “I’ll, erm, just take a look around while I wait.”

 

The doctor – he isn’t sure if it’s the medical or the scientific kind, and isn’t in the mood to ask – is already making his way in the opposite direction. “Sure, just don’t touch anything!” he calls cheerfully over his shoulder.  

 

Moments later, when the extravagant-looking chair he’s sat in lights up and takes on a personality all of its own, Steve really wishes that he had listened to that advice.

 

*

 

_2\. Tony_

 

Within ten minutes, he bats away the junior staff, sending them vaguely in Banner’s direction. He has found what he can only describe as a treasure trove of Ancient tech in one of the rooms branching off from the main corridor.

 

The door swishes open and he groans at the interruption. The words _Now what?_ are on the tip of his tongue, and he struggles to swallow them down as the head of the expedition strides in.

 

Dr. Hill smiles at him. “You look like a kid in a candy store,” she comments.

 

“Oh, I am,” he says energetically. “Like a super-smart kid in the most elaborate candy store, built by a technologically advanced alien race.”

 

“Well, I have something else for you to look at.” She holds up a sliver of metal the size of a cell phone. “We found this by the control desk. Could be important, given its proximity to the Gate.”

 

He takes it from her hand, rotating it before placing it on the only bare section left on the table and reaching for his tablet.

 

“I am Head of Science, am I not? Just give me ten minutes with it. You know, there’s an internet rumor that I can reverse engineer pretty much anything in ten minutes. And it’s not even one of the rumors that I started.”

 

“Yeah? How about reverse engineering me a ZPM?”

 

He looks up to take in her inquiring smile. “Okay,” he concedes. “Anything except that.”

 

He gets the distinct feeling that he’s going to have to get used to the eye roll that she delivers before turning on her heel to leave.

 

*

 

_3\. Natasha_

She stares down at the prone man in front of her; he is still clutching the side of his body that she had targeted during her attack.

 

“Again.”

 

Her partner exhales loudly before looking up at her in disbelief. “I do not think –“

 

“Then do _not_ think,” she says evenly, her voice laced with an undercurrent of steel. _“Again_.”

Natasha steps back, allowing her opponent to retrieve his weapons. She waits for him to get to his feet before raising her own bantos sticks and adopting a defensive pose.

 

He takes a deep breath before attacking. He’s predictable, swinging straight for her torso as he always does. She brings one stick down to block but deliberately holds the other in the air. It’s only enough to soften the blow, and she winces at the force at which the combined weapons hit her body. She has a split-second to glimpse a flash of triumph in his eyes.

 

In the next moment, she remembers why she had chosen to train him: he is quick-thinking. He seems to register the movement of her other stick – the one that isn’t trapped at her abdomen – almost as soon as she makes the decision to move her arm. He starts to turn, but isn’t fast enough, and her weapon comes crashing down on his shoulder.

 

He cries out, swiveling away from her. He has only just swung around to her again when she makes her move. He defends better than he attacks, anticipating her actions to good effect. They spar, back and forth, for longer than they have done previously, and she is quietly impressed by the progress he has made in recent weeks.

 

She becomes more thoughtful of her own technique now, realizing that she is perhaps just as guilty of showing complacency. Her attack becomes more frenzied, more unpredictable, and it isn’t long before she whips around his wavering body and swipes at the back of his knees. He drops to the ground with a groan, relinquishing his weapons.

 

“I lasted more than a minute this time,” he comments breathlessly.

 

“Congratulations,” is the dry response.

 

In the distance, the Ring of the Ancestors bursts to life. She begins to walk towards it, slowing momentarily to stoop and collect her overcoat.

 

She calls back to him. “We have visitors.”

 

She doesn’t wait.

 

*

 

_4\. Bruce_

 

If Stark is acting like the hyperactive kid in the proverbial candy store, then Bruce likes to think of himself as the star-struck teenager meeting his favorite band. 

 

He makes a concerted effort to explore as far as Hill will allow, endeavoring to be on hand and as useful as he can be to the junior staff – but if he’s honest, he would much rather be left alone to simply absorb it all. Every so often, he feels something pulling him toward the Gate room. It hasn’t been activated since the reconnaissance team left, but its quiet power seems to call to him. Eventually, he sets himself up in one corner of the room, connecting his tablet to a palm-sized metal cube that one of the Marines brought him.

 

From the corner of his eye, he watches Coulson approach. He stops by his side and observes the room for several minutes before speaking.

 

“Ready to get out there, Bruce?”

 

“Out where?” he asks absent-mindedly, gaze fixed on the tiny fluctuations displayed on his tablet screen.

 

“You know, with all those Gate addresses we just found, we’re probably gonna need more than one Recon team.”

 

“Hmm? So?”

 

Phil grins. “Think about, Banner. Exploring alien worlds, making discoveries that no Earthling has made before…it would be pretty amazing, wouldn’t it?”

 

He walks away with a dreamy smile on his lips, leaving Bruce gripping his tablet and looking increasingly flustered.

 

_Pretty amazing._ Part of him can’t think of anything more awful. That part thinks of deadly parasites that they don’t know how to fight, hostile aliens hell-bent on destroying them, Ancient technology that is unmanageable and way beyond their comprehension.

 

The other part of him – _t_ _he other guy_ – thinks that it _does_ sound pretty amazing.

 

*

 

_5\. Thor_

 

The wormhole snaps shut behind him moments after he hurls himself through. He tumbles further than he needs to, unable to muster the energy to stop his body from succumbing to momentum. Breathless, he lies on his back, one leg bent at the knee, arms inert along the ground by his side.

 

_One minute. Just one minute._

 

Flashes of a memory invade his mind. Sunshine, grass, lying spent alongside Sif. Laughter echoing through the air.

 

He swallows hard, blinking a moment later. The memory is buried – for now. Carefully, he sits up, assessing the state of his body before gingerly getting to his feet.

 

Behind him, the Ring of the Ancestors begins to rotate.

 

Slowly, he takes in a long, deep breath. He lifts his head, eyes fixed on the horizon.

 

He is ready now. Ready to run.

 

*

 

_6\. Clint_

“Why did you want to join the Air Force?”

 

He’s rehearsed this answer so many times that it rolls off his tongue with very little thought. He changes his facial expression to emphasize the important words: _l_ _ife-changing, inspirational, heroic_.

 

General Fury’s lips twitch as if he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Nice answer,” he comments. “Now, why did you _really_ join the Air Force?”

 

Clint smiles. He’s always preferred a chain of command that isn’t afraid of a little straight-talking. “When I was a kid, my brother and I were in the circus.”

 

He pauses as the General’s eyebrow rises, but continues when the other man declines to speak. “Our parents died early on, and I looked long and hard for role models, people to look up to.”

 

“And did you find many of those in the circus?”

 

From someone else, he would view question as mocking. But it merely sounds curious coming from Fury’s lips.

 

“Some,” he admits. “But, as I got older, I realized that they weren’t the kinds of role models that I was looking for. I could either be one of the good guys, or one of the bad guys. As it turned out, that proved to be a harder decision to make than it sounds,” he admits reluctantly.

 

“Until you came across someone from the Air Force,” the General speculates.

 

Clint shakes his head. “Army, actually. Watched him save three lives after a car accident on the highway. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wanted to be _that_ guy. Someone who can make a difference, even if it’s just to one person. But, I’ve always had a thing for flying and being up in the sky,” he shares with a soft smile. “I fancied myself as a pilot. So I applied to the Air Force instead.”

 

Fury gets to his feet abruptly, and he wonders if he’s said something out of turn.

 

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

 

Clint’s mind whirs, wondering how to backtrack. But before he can say anything to try and save himself, the General strides around the desk and towards the exit.

 

“Come with me,” is the instruction.

 

Clint follows, nervous. Fury leads him to a meeting room, empty now but large enough to hold at least twenty people. They bypass the oval table at the center, making their way to the large window running along the far wall.

 

Only now does Clint register the presence of the second, much larger room on the other side of the glass. The floor is far below them. On it, a ramp rises to the center of an enormous metallic ring with some kind of hieroglyphic symbols etched onto it.

 

“It’s called the Stargate,” the General informs him quietly. “And it’s going to change your world.”

 

*

 

_7\. Loki_

 

The human beneath her fingertips is defiant, back straight and head held high. She doesn’t mind – it only serves to make victory taste that much sweeter.

 

His eyes betray his pain when she clamps her hand onto his chest, and her lips twist into a cruel smile. She has no time to study him for further changes; the energy courses through her body and overloads her senses.

 

He tastes exquisite, just as she had imagined when she first saw him.

 

A deafening noise cuts short the beautiful intensity in a brutal fashion. She looks down to see the pain replaced by emptiness in the human’s eyes. The energy dissipates quickly – until there is none left. She lets him crumple to the ground, lifeless.

 

She hisses in frustration, knowing that there had been so much left in him, energy that she could well need until the next culling. She swings around in time to see the culprit retreat into the shadows.

 

_Humans._

 

One day, they shall _all_ kneel before her.

 


End file.
